


WE DIDN'T START THE FIRE (but we did steal gas from a Ferrari)

by leradny



Category: FLCL
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, Short One Shot, Some Swearing, but otherwise as tame as you can get for flcl, light thievery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26363758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leradny/pseuds/leradny
Summary: You found the Vespa wandering along a street in England, somewhere around 1974.
Kudos: 4





	WE DIDN'T START THE FIRE (but we did steal gas from a Ferrari)

You found the Vespa wandering along a street in England, somewhere around 1974.

It was back when you maybe weren't such a bad person. Or maybe you were a bad person already and you were just in a good mood for a couple of years.

Back when Vespa Super Sports were one of the older models. This one had been tossed away by someone who was tired of it, wanted more gimmicks or a bigger engine probably. It had a terrible custom Union Jack paintjob and a flat tire. And you? You'd learned a long time ago that ugly things could be cute. And this moped, you thought when you saw it so very long ago--why, this moped was terribly ugly. The ugliest thing you'd ever seen, and you've seen a lot of ugly things in the universe. There was only one thing for you to do in this situation and that thing was: Crouch down, hold out your hand, and make kissy sounds.

Okay, three things, but whatever.

"Come here!" you gushed. "Oh, you're so cute, you poor thing. You want some gas? I don't have any right now, but I'll get you a can. You must be running on fumes."

It rolled closer, wiggling its handlebars. Something squeaked on the inside. Rust dotted its bolts.

"That's it." You stretched out to the furthest reaches of your lanky arm, and just barely brush the tip of a handle. "You're doing great, buddy. See? I'm not going to hurt you--"

A door slammed somewhere, shattering the peace. The Vespa kicked into gear, speeding away. Sparks flew as the flat tire's rim ground against the pavement, leaving you to gape openmouthed at the empty space where the Vespa had been.

You screeched high enough to break a wineglass, tore pink strands of hair out of your scalp, and stomped a foot hard enough to crack the sidewalk. Then you ran after the scooter to catch it the hard way.

Three days later, after a lot of running, you found the Vespa again--shivering in an open field in the countryside. You took it by the handlebars and rolled it to civilization, intending to find a gas station like a proper law abiding citizen (not that you are English... or even from Earth). But after six hours of hauling an empty Vespa with a flat all the way to the nearest, glorious station, you rummaged through your wallet to find złoty and a few rubles. Neither of which are accepted in England circa 1974.

"Ugh!" you gripe. "I can't believe I forgot to convert my money!" No way were you going to roll it all the way to the bank and then back to a gas station. And you won't leave it alone where someone might steal it. So you waited till nighttime and looked around for the nicest car on the street. There was a red Ferarri Datona.

"Whoo!" you said with an appreciative whistle. "Looks like someone's got a lot of money and a very tiny penis." The Vespa's headlight glimmered. "I bet they won't mind if we skim a little off the top."

You found a crinkled plastic bottle on the street and shook out the last of the soda, then scrounged up all the plastic straws you could find and stuck them together end by end. Carefully weaseling them into the Ferrari's tank, you sipped cautiously at the free end until some gas flowed down the line, then you stopped the last straw with a fingertip.

The Vespa popped its gas cap the second it smelled gas flowing, squirming closer and clipping your leg with its handlebar. It stings, but you won't bruise. Humans bruise, with their delicate skin and watery flesh.

"Careful now!" You nudged it a bit further away and aimed for the tank as you unstopped the makeshift siphon. "If you fill up too fast you'll overflow." You drip-drip-dripped gas into the tank as slowly as you could, but honestly you were never a slow person. Before you knew it, gas was trickling onto the ground and your pants and your hands. "Ack!"

You capped the tank. The Vespa shook itself, spraying more gas everywhere. You sputtered some of it out and wiped your face with a sleeve.

"There you go, all full up. Feel better?"

It revved, then pulled up to rest against your knee and purred. You scratched it between the handlebars, then perched on the seat. It was crusted with dirt, but you've wandered around in worse filth before.

"Now let's get you cleaned the fuck up, mon ami!"

You commandeered a hose, swiped some towels off a laundry line, and got it sparkling clean. Not that it looked any better--actually when it was clean the Union Jack paintjob looked even worse. Like one of those hairless cats. So, with a honk of approval from your new scooter, you picked the lock on a car shop to change the tire, take care of the rust, and strip the paint. But none of the colors seemed right, so you rode it around with just a coat of gray primer, dashing under the nearest awning whenever it rained.

In England, it rains a fucking lot.

Eventually you and your new Vespa crossed the border into Scotland, and you sat on a hilltop watching the sunrise with your Rickenbacker on your back. It hadn't rained so much in that town, and the light coming off the dry grass was golden. You looked over at the Vespa bathed in sunglow and had an epiphany.

"What do you think, huh?" You gestured to the fields. "Yellow's a nice color, right?"

It waggled its handlebars and honked.

**Author's Note:**

> i don't knooooooooooooooooooow if i'm going to continue this. i'm actually not too big a fan of sympathetic haruko. i like evil or at the very least morally ambiguous haruko better. so if i do continue it's going to be a downward slide. i just decided to put this up because i like the style and it's been sitting on my computer for two years now and i thought i'd rather publish it than delete it.


End file.
